


To See You Naked is to Recall the Earth*

by rubygirl29



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-06
Updated: 2010-07-06
Packaged: 2017-10-18 10:19:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubygirl29/pseuds/rubygirl29





	To See You Naked is to Recall the Earth*

**To See You Naked is to Recall the Earth***

*Federico Garcia Lorca

John’s first impression of Ronon was of raw power, of wild strength, of a man so hardened and mistrustful of everything and everybody that he doubted he was even human. It had been Teyla who had first spoken on his behalf, saying gently that the ferocity and raw pain in Dex disguised how young he was, how vulnerable. John had laughed. “About as vulnerable as a man-eating lion,” he said.

“Even a wild beast can be vulnerable when wounded.”

“They can also be the most dangerous. You should know that.”

“We are talking of a young man, not a beast without reason,” Teyla had argued. “Be careful with him, John.”

“Oh, I intend to be very careful,” John had said with a wry twist to his mouth. He had thought Teyla was being way too sympathetic. He checked his P-90, as if to emphasize his point.

It wasn’t until they were back on Atlantis and he had seen the look on Dex’s face when they showed him the pictures of Sateda the MALP transmitted, that he had realized that Teyla was right.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^  
He began noticing other things about Ronon after that; the way he fought, graceful and instinctive, as if he knew how his opponent would react. The way his big body went from rest into a whirlwind of lethal action. He began to see the calculations, the minute adjustments that had to be made to better use that body as a weapon, to compensate for his opponent’s size, quickness, skill level. And then in the millisecond it took to make a movement, his opponent would be down with Ronon’s weapon at his throat, or his ribs, the back of his neck. The Satedan knew a hundred ways to kill that didn’t involve his monster of a gun or a P90. _That_ was the kind of man Sheppard wanted fighting for Atlantis, not against them.

What began as a military interest became interest in the man behind the weapons and skills. They began spending time together off-duty. First, at Elizabeth’s behest, and then because he just _liked_ Ronon. They complemented each other: physical force, mental acuity, that almost wordless communication as if they had known each other for a lifetime instead of a few months.

Then after Ronon had saved his life, risking his own, John felt like he had found his soulmate, his partner, and when Ronon was near, he could let down some of his guards, lay down some of his burdens, and that felt ... he wasn’t sure what the word was ... It just felt so damn good.

They ran together, sparred together. Fought together. Killed together. They were lethal and perfect and there were times when Sheppard wanted to laugh with the sheer exhilaration of being with this man. Ronon would give him a look, a small smile that lit his eyes, and John felt the warmth clean down to his belly.

And then things changed ... once again.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

The stones of the pier were warm on his back, the palms of his hands. The sun seeped through his skin to his bones. He could feel the hum of the city through his body; a happy sound, as if the city, too liked the warmth of the sun. It reminded him of honeybees in a summer meadow. Atlantis didn’t have seasons, per se, but there were few days that held this kind of heat, and it reminded John of Earth.

John had found this place on the east side of the city. It had been damaged and was still unrestored following the storm. Without the sun it was a bleak and lonely place. But on a day like this, it was perfect. He had taken a quick dip in the waters alongside the pier and was stretched out, shirtless, knowing he was going to get a sunburn, but not really caring. It felt so good to be warm.

A shadow blocked out the sun and John shaded his eyes. Ronon stood over him briefly, then dropped down next to him. “Hot today,” he commented.

“It feels good.” He squinted a little. Ronon’s face was flushed, his skin shone with sweat. “You’ve been running? In this heat?”

“It was cooler earlier.” He looked at the ocean. “How’s the water?”

“Cold.”

“Sounds good.” He stripped off his shirt and his loose workout pants and dove in.

Briefly, John considered joining him, but the warmth lulled him into laziness and he basked in the sun. He was half-asleep when cold droplets of water fell on his skin like cold rain. “Ow!”

“Don’t be such a baby,” Ronon laughed and stretched out on the pier next to him.  
.  
John sat up, took off his aviator sunglasses. And swallowed. He had seen Ronon naked in the showers, in the infirmary, but he had never seen him like this, all golden and spangled in the sunlight; his skin like warm silk, a faint flush on his cheeks, his lips soft with a half-smile. John felt a heaviness grow in his groin, warm as the sun weighty as honey. Ronon’s name was a whisper on his lips.

Ronon opened his eyes and they were wide, aware. “What do you want?” he asked.

“I want ...” John wanted everything. Every smooth inch of flesh, every rise of muscle, every shadowed part of Ronon’s body. Tentatively, he reached out and drew a finger across the bow of Ronon’s clavicle, down the center of his chest, down the perfect flesh of his abdomen, following the tempting trail of hair down to where his loose shorts gapped at the hollow of his waist.

“There’s nobody out here. Nobody watching us,” Ronon rasped. He pressed John's hand lower. “What do you want?” He repeated fierce and _wanting_.

John felt the hard, heated flesh right through the faintly cool, wet fabric. Ronon was right. They were alone in a city where solitude was rare. “I want this ...”

He tugged the drawstring on the shorts, felt Ronon lift his hips. He pulled the shorts down Ronon’s strong thighs, long, muscled legs. Sunlight glinted gold on his skin and hair. John drew his thumbs down, pressing gently on pressure points behind his knees, his calves and ankles, the arches of his feet. Ronon groaned softly.

John kissed his way up Ronon’s body. His skin tasted fresh; salty from the water and sweet from the sun. He could have taken Ronon in his mouth, he could have brought him to quivering arousal and need, but he held back, feeling the ache in his spine from his own suppressed desire. This was too perfect, too sacred. To have this beautiful golden body still beneath his hands, to see the trust in Ronon’s eyes, the softness in that warrior face was overwhelming. Humbling.

It was like holding the Earth; because right now, his world was Ronon. Sands would shift, stars would fall, but Ronon would be there. John slid his body against Ronon’s, felt his arm curve over his shoulders. “We should go in,” John said, he tilted his head against Ronon’s shoulder, kissed the angle of his jaw.

“S’nice here.”

“Buddy, I hate to tell you this, but you’re gonna get a sunburn where you don’t want to think about it. And I’m thinking these stones aren’t going to be good for my back.” He felt Ronon’s wide warm palm on his skin, pressing him closer.

“You sure about this?”

“About going inside?” He deliberately misunderstood, because he knew _this_ would change his world, his life.

“Sheppard,” Ronon growled in exasperation.

“Yes.” He swooped in for a kiss. Ronon reached for his shorts, but John stopped him. “Wait ...”

“Now what?”

He sat and just looked at Ronon, naked and open; golden, solid and _his_. A world to explore, to touch and to taste. He slowly stroked his hand down sun-warm skin, the pebble of nipples, the roughness of hair, the warm, heavy weight of his sex. John bent and kissed the thin skin at Ronon’s groin, felt the quiver of muscles against his lips.

“I’m sure,” he said, and he couldn’t help grinning at the expression on Ronon’s face that matched his own. “Let’s go inside.”

Ronon dressed and they walked back to the city, shoulders brushing; looking to all other eyes the same as always, not like their internal landscapes had shifted and changed, not like explorers on the verge of a new world.

 **The End**


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